NOTE: The prequel has been posted under the title "Raising a Wildflower." I have decided to turn that into a depository for one-shot fics about Rose's growing years, whenever I have plot bunnies that strike me!
x
It was 7:30 and the flat was blissfully quiet. Sherlock was even asleep! With any luck he'd sleep another hour or so and John could enjoy the silence of the morning. And then he heard footsteps on the stairs and the door opened. He looked up from his newspaper and sighed. "You could text, you know. Or at least knock."
"I wouldn't hold out any hope for that if I were you, John," Mycroft retorted.
John rolled his eyes. "If you're going to grace us with your presence so early, you could at least bring breakfast. However, since you are here, help yourself to some tea."
Mycroft nodded and entered the kitchen to fix a cup of tea.
"Come to plague us with your presence?" Sherlock grumbled as he entered the sitting room and caught sight of his brother.
"Good to see you brother. You look awful," Mycroft commented smugly.
Sherlock scowled. "The lie-low and I don't get on."
"Perhaps you should purchase bunk beds then."
"You're an idiot. Go home Mycroft."
"And you two are a bit much in the morning," John pointed out. "She still asleep?"
"Yes." In actuality, Sherlock didn't begrudge giving his bed up for Rose. It was an easy sacrifice to make for her, given her recent trauma and just being out of hospital. He was more than willing to keep her closer and watch over her, even if that relegated him to the lie-low.
x
It was hot. So hot. It burned her flesh before digging in deeply. She gasped and clutched at her chest, feeling warm blood spill out. It was covering her and she could hardly breathe, let alone call for help. Her face felt warm and wet and she was shaking.
No, she wasn't actually shaking; Rose was being shook.
"Rose! Rose, wake up!" She could hear Mycroft's stern voice issuing the order. "It was a bad dream, wake up now!"
"Do you have sedatives?" Sherlock whispered to John.
The doctor shook his head no. "I was hoping we wouldn't need them."
"ROSENWYN!" Mycroft bellowed.
Suddenly she jerked awake, her eyes opening wide before rapidly blinking. The faces of three very concerned men, her 'boys' as she affectionately thought of them, were looking down at her.
"It was hot and I was wet and I could feel the blood and it went in." Rose said in a rush before bursting into a fresh wave of tears.
Sherlock moved to sit on the bed beside her, but Mycroft frowned and waved him away. He stood aside, watching to see what his elder brother would do.
With an ease that surprised them all, Mycroft lifted Rose off the bed and sat down, holding her on his lap. While he may have been caught unaware by her sudden need for comfort the day before, when Mycroft was prepared for it, he could in fact cuddle, even if it felt slightly awkward at times. This time it didn't.
"There there," he soothed. "You're alright Poppet, I've got you. No one is going to hurt you ever again, I promise. It was a bad dream, but you're alright. I'm here and you're here and safe and Sherlock and John are here too." Mycroft looked up at the other men and motioned with his head for them to leave. The brothers shared a look before Sherlock nodded and left, with John following behind.
"My, I felt it, I felt all the blood and my chest and I'm so scared My, I'm scared!" Rose sobbed out, clinging to him.
Mindful of her injuries, Mycroft held her as tightly as he could. "You have to calm down Poppet. John's going to come back in here and get fussy with you if you don't," he pointed out in a soft, soothing tone. "You're on the mend but we must take care of that lung. There's nothing to be scared of anymore. It was just a dream, no one is here to hurt you, I promise Poppet."
He began carding his hand through her curly hair, remembering she'd liked that when she was younger. Apparently she still did and Mycroft was relieved to see her calming down and attempting to take deep breaths. "Good girl," he murmured. "I'm so sorry Rose; so sorry."
The room was quiet for a few moments and he was almost convinced she'd fallen asleep again when Rose finally spoke. "What are you sorry for? You didn't give me a nightmare," she felt compelled to point out.
"I know. But I wasn't there," Mycroft admitted. "I wasn't there and you were hurt. I should have been there."
Rose frowned. "None of that was your fault. It was mine. I was the idiot who didn't tell anyone what was going on. You were just being a good big brother and not spying on me or hacking my phone or anything else that you used to do. I'm the one that kept you from being there."
"I have the sneaking suspicion that if I hadn't done all those things in the past that you would have come to me sooner for help."
She didn't know how to respond to that, particularly since it was true, and Rose really had to think about what to say. Her silence, however, confirmed that he was right.
"You always did your best Mycroft," Rose finally said. "You were trying to watch out for me. I understand that now, but I couldn't before I left."
"Because you felt I was trying to control you," Mycroft stated. He'd suspected that was the reason from the moment she'd disappeared.
Rose nodded. "Yes, that's precisely what I thought. Even though I know differently now, I didn't want us to go back to that same place, where you were the concerned and suspicious brother and I was the bratty and uncontrollable little sister. That's why I didn't reach out until I got really scared."
Mycroft pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "I only wanted to protect you. Someday, if you have children of your own, you'll understand how scary it is to see them going out in the world doing who knows what. It was worse for me because I know precisely how terrible the world can be."
He closed his eyes, waiting for her to remind him, once again, that he wasn't her father. Despite that being the case, it hurt each time she said it. Rose was the closest thing to his own child he'd ever have. But, she didn't. When Mycroft opened his eyes, he saw the quiet tears trailing down her face. "What's this about?" he questioned, reaching for his handkerchief.
"I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry Mycroft."
"Poppet, I know you are. I know you'll never keep something like this from us again."
She shook her head. "Not that."
He gently dried her face, frowning as he tried to think of what she meant. "Then for what?"
"For hurting you, when I left," Rose whispered. "Which doesn't mean I think its all fine for you to hack my phone and spy on me and all that other nonsense. But I never stopped to think how much it would hurt you when I left. I knew it would hurt Sherlock, but I didn't think about you."
Mycroft tutted. "Don't worry about that now, Poppet. It doesn't matter anymore."
"Yes, it does," Rose said firmly. "For all your obnoxious habits, My… I'm trying to think of the right words. You just… You were good. You did good."
"I did good at what, precisely? I'm not quite following you."
She groaned. "Sometimes you're very dense My. Should have known I'd have to spell it out for you. You were good… at…at being a dad/brother combination. Which is a really awkward way to phrase it, I admit that. You just did a really good job being my dad without actually being my dad. I get that now, now that I've been out in the world and all that. I suppose you're as good as any old dad, I bet."
"That's a terrible thing to tease about Rose," Mycroft replied quietly, not believing she was serious.
"I'm not teasing," she replied, shifting so she could look up at him. "I mean that. You were still a git sometimes, still are sometimes, but I really do mean that."
He felt a lump in his throat and tried hard to swallow it so he could respond. "Why tell me this now?" he finally asked.
"Because I didn't know how to bring it up before I suppose," Rose told him with a sigh. "Guess it took nearly dying for me to decide I should probably tell you. Don't get too excited about it though! You're still an idiot sometimes and you're still annoying and all those things that big brothers are. I just recognize the other stuff too."
Mycroft looked puzzled, then threw back his head and laughed. "Only in this family do you tell someone you love them and then proceed to call them an idiot. And I tried so hard to make you normal."
"Well, that clearly failed," Rose snickered. "And it's okay that we aren't a normal family. Normal is boring. Don't forget though, you still annoy me just the way a big brother should. This little fluffy moment of ours just now changes nothing, just so you're aware. I'm not buying you a card come Father's Day or anything. We're still us, just as we always were."
"Meaning what, exactly?"
"I still completely resent you for thinking you've a right to spank me when I'm almost twenty and I'll still throw things at you when you're mean and I'll have a tantrum if you hack my mobile or laptop," she answered.
"Ah, I see. Well I still think you're a horrid little brat who is too old to throw anything and shouldn't threaten a tantrum in the same sentence as protesting your coming spanking," Mycroft quipped. "Defeats the purpose of your argument, Rosenwyn. See? Nothing's changed at all. You'll annoy, I'll scold, and we'll go on as we always have."
"I'm glad. Whatever would I do if I didn't have you to be annoyed by?"
"And what would I do if I didn't have you to worry about and scold? I still wish you'd come home though."
"My! I give you one little compliment and now you want the moon," Rose replied with a scowl. "Idiot."
"Beastly child!"
x
"They've been in there a really long time," Sherlock commented, watching his bedroom door closely.
"She was upset, it's just fine for them to have a cuddle," John pointed out.
"Mycroft doesn't cuddle."
The doctor rolled his eyes. "Well of course he didn't cuddle you, Sherlock; you're you. She, on the other hand, is a whole other matter.
"But that's my job, the cuddle bit," Sherlock stated with an air of annoyance. Didn't John knowthese things?
"Well she almost died Sherlock, what do you expect? Even Mycroft is allowed a bit of sentiment; as strange as that sounds when I say it," John murmured. It was really hard to imagine Mycroft, of all people, as sentimental, even when it came to Rose.
Before too much longer, Mycroft and Rose emerged from the bedroom. "You always look so little when you first wake up," Sherlock said with a chuckle. He reached for Rose's wrist, pulling her closer to him, and then sat her on his lap. "Just like when you were little. Bare feet, sleepy eyes, and a wild mess of curls."
"No sleepy eyes right now," Rose murmured. "Been up for a bit. Someone tell me there's coffee, or there will be shortly?"
John chuckled. "I'll make you some, love. Breakfast too? We've got hash browns and eggs or I can go raid your flat for food."
"Hash browns with cheese please, unless Sherlock's done something funny to the cheese again," Rose decided.
"No, cheese is good, just got it," John assured her.
"John makes very good breakfasts," Rose told Mycroft. "I have breakfast here every morning and he almost always has the coffee ready by the time I arrive."
"I wouldn't call it an arrival," Sherlock interjected. "It's more of a stumble, to the point that it's a miracle you actually make it inside before you fall over and beg for coffee."
"I only fell over once," Rose scolded, lightly smacking his arm. "And that was because you'd left something in the middle of the floor!"
"The coffee table you mean?"
She blushed. "Yes; hate you."
"Insufferable brat," he responded playfully before kissing her forehead. "Feeling better?"
"Yes. Mycroft cuddled me and it was nice," she said with a smile. Rose felt quite content just then, aside from needing her coffee. "Jawwwwwwn!" She called, stretching John's name out into a bit of a whine. "Is the coffee ready?"
"Demanding little thing, aren't you?" John responded, laughing. "Yes, it just finished!"
Rose practically bounded off Sherlock's lap in her eagerness to get to the coffee, narrowly missing the coffee table.
x
"Aw, would you look at you lot! You all almost look normal," Lestrade commented upon his arrival at 221B. "Practically domestic in fact."
Rose was sprawled out on the couch with a book, her legs across Mycroft's lap, who was reading the newspaper and ignoring her completely. Sherlock sat at the other end, his leg serving as a pillow while he played with John's laptop.
"Oh look! A gentleman caller, just for me," Rose replied dramatically. She grinned and waved Lestrade into the flat.
Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Rose, really."
"I am here, just for you," Greg confirmed. "Certainly wouldn't be giving these to Sherlock." He held out a bouquet of a dozen pink roses. "They alright? I texted John but he didn't know for sure what your favorite color was."
"Well then you are in luck, because pink is my favorite color," she told him with a smile. "Come sit. How are you faring without me around?"
"Slightly less lively, miss my coffee deliveries. I suppose I miss you as well. Mostly the coffee though," he teased.
Rose got up to find a vase for her roses as Lestrade sat on the couch. "Hmm. My caller isn't much of a gentleman after all," she quipped. "If you really only miss the coffee rather than my perfectly delightful self."
Sherlock snorted. "Oh yes, you're so delightful Rose-"
"When you're sleeping," Mycroft finished.
"Well I like her well enough," Lestrade said, laughing. "Good worker, often amusing, brings me coffee twice a day."
Rose's eyebrow quirked. "So I'm essentially a glorified server?"
Lestrade held up his hands in surrender. "That is not at all what I meant, I promise," he laughed again. Despite the laughter, he quickly sobered and gave her a look. "Have they talked to you? About how foolish you were? Do you have any idea what he could have done to you?" he asked quietly.
Rose blushed. "Sort of. Sherlock bellowed yesterday, which was really odd, and then I cried and jumped on Mycroft and frightened him and then John made me take a nap, so…" Her voice trailed off.
"We're getting there," Sherlock assured Lestrade. "John's forbidden us from upsetting her for the time being."
"Got a sad lung right now," she explained quietly.
"Well at least it and you are around to be sad," Lestrade pointed out gently. "If you don't want to tell these two about something-" He paused to indicate Mycroft and Sherlock. "Tell me. I'm normal and generally very reasonable and I care."
Rose nodded, her eyes downcast. "I know. I'm really sorry I was an idiot."
Lestrade reached over and patted her shoulder. "I'm not here to be upset with you, that's your brothers' job, not mine. I merely wanted to let you know I'm around."
This time she gave him a smile. "Thanks."
"And no rush coming back. Not until John says you can and not if he says yes but you're too tired. Though I do actually sort of miss having you around."
"Aw, that's so sweet," Rose grinned. She could practically feel Mycroft's eyes rolling behind her and it made her giggle. It was sort of fun having him around!
x
"Rest means rest, not cooking," John said sternly later that evening. "And we know Sherlock isn't going to cook, so it's me or Mycroft and I don't know if he can cook or not."
"Not really, we have a cook at home. Always have. He used to make me special breakfasts though when I was little," Rose admitted.
"Special breakfasts?"
"Pancakes. And not just any pancakes, bear pancakes. With little ears and chocolate chip eyes and a whip cream smile. Teddy bear pancakes, just for me."
"You make him sound human and that's frightening me a bit," John teased before sobering. "I mean it though. Back on the couch or a chair or a bed and rest. Or have someone take you for a walk if you're tired of sitting."
Her eyebrows went up. "Take me for a walk, John? That's… rather insulting," she decided.
"Take you on a walk then. Or go with you on a walk, or whatever you want to call it. But no cooking. Maybe tomorrow if you're good and rest up," John said. He kissed the top of her head before turning her back to facing the sitting room and sending her on her way to the couch with a light smack.
Rose let out an indignant squeak and hurried over to the couch, where she sat down and stuck her tongue out at him. As soon as she plopped onto the couch her mobile notified her of a text and she reached over to pick it up…
Only to have Mycroft intercept her. "Who is this? Do you know an Alfred? Sherlock, what do you know about an Alfred?"
"Alfred is my dance partner and a perfectly nice fellow," Rose said. "Give me back my mobile Mycroft. This is not going to work if you think you can just take my mobile, screen my calls, and make a mental list of people to do background checks on later when you go home. Completely unacceptable and I won't have it."
"Don't be smart," Mycroft scolded. He did not like her tone!
"Don't be smart," Rose mimicked in a high pitched voice.
Mycroft glared at Sherlock. "I blame you entirely for that."
Sherlock ignored him completely.
"Mobile, Mycroft. Immediately. You cannot steal my mobile, you cannot background check my friends, you cannot screen my calls, you can't do anything with my mobile, other than hand it over, or I'm really going to be angry," Rose threatened.
Rolling his eyes, he handed it over. "Always so dramatic Rose. I just want to protect you."
"I'm reconsidering everything I said earlier during cuddle time, just so you're aware."
Sherlock snorted. "Cuddle time! That's hilarious!"
"I live in an insane asylum," Rose grumbled as she entered her password. She read the message: 'How are you? Can I stop by tomorrow?'
'Sure, anytime. I'm being held prisoner.'
'When will they release you?'
Rose looked up from the message. "John! Alfred wants to know when I can go back to the studio again."
"Two weeks from yesterday," he responded.
Over her head, Sherlock and Mycroft shared a knowing look. 'Wait for it…' he mouthed as Rose began typing again.
'John said two we-'
"WHAT?!" Rose shrieked.
"You heard me, two weeks from yesterday."
"Are you absolutely insane? John, I have a competition in four weeks! I cannot wait two weeks to start practicing again! No, absolutely not!" Rose declared. "You are utterly ridiculous and I refuse to abide by that. Completely and utterly refuse!"
"You're so wordy when you rant, Rose," Sherlock grumbled. "And very shrill."
John looked up from the stove top and pinned Rose with a hard look. "This is not a negotiation. You just got out of hospital yesterday, your bloody lung collapsed, you had surgery. How can it possibly surprise you in the slightest that you need two weeks rest? Weren't you listening to the discharge instructions yesterday?!"
Her face turned a bit pink. "No…. I figured you were listening and that was good enough," she admitted.
"Well then it's a good thing I'm a doctor isn't it? And your doctor at that," John retorted. "Or you'd already be back in hospital! Again, this is not a negotiation young lady. You're recovering, don't make me be so stern with you and don't be so damn stubborn!"
"OH MY GOD!" Rose yelled. "You're going to ruin my life John. I'm going to lose the competition and it will be entirely your fault. Are you happy with yourself?"
"I'm plenty happy with myself, so long as you're still in one piece," John retorted. "The answer is no. No studio, no dancing, no overly strenuous activity for two weeks. You're lucky I'm letting you go to your competition at all, miss!"
"Who do you think you are?!" Rose shrieked. "Sherlock, tell him he can't do that! Tell him! He's not my brother! He can't do that!"
"Rose…" Sherlock said warningly.
She threw a pillow at him and began shrieking again when suddenly she stopped and began coughing. And coughing, and coughing!
"That's plenty, Rosenwyn. Absolutely plenty," Mycroft thundered. "Not another word or you're going to the corner, coughing or no coughing."
"Shut up Mycroft!" she shouted through her coughs.
Mycroft got up from the couch and started walking towards her, looking anything but pleased.
"No, I didn't meant that, I-" Rose coughed again and struggled to catch her breath.
"It's a miracle you made it to nineteen, Rose," John groused as he came over to see to her. "Mycroft has shown incredible restrain. I think I would have smothered in your sleep long before this." Of course he didn't mean a word of it.
Her only response was a scowl.
"We thought about that," Sherlock quipped. "Lots actually."
"Now, slow it down. Breathe slowly; don't try to get so much air in. It's going to hurt in a minute," he instructed. "You've got to calm down Rose. Eyes on me; breathe in, slowly, slowly. And out slowly. It's alright to cough, that's just how your lung is supposed to respond."
By the time she caught her breath again, Rose was white as a sheet and her chest hurt terribly.
"Calm again? Aren't going to strop anymore?" John checked, his voice gentle this time.
Rose shook her head no.
"Good girl. No more of that, alright? I know you're angry, I know you love to dance and want to do brilliantly at competition. But I would like you to actually still be alive for your competition. So stop being stroppy. Just… pout quietly if you have to," he suggested. "That won't hurt you at all."
"Mycroft is going to do me bodily harm in a moment," Rose whispered.
"I highly doubt that," John chuckled. "Now go sit down. Sherlock, get her some water. Our supper is going to burn in a minute if I don't get back to it."
Rose gave her eldest brother a tiny smile and sat down on the couch as far away from him as she could.
"Do you even know how completely ridiculous you are, Rosenwyn Aramantha Holmes? That was disgraceful," Mycroft scolded.
"I'm sorry I told you to shut up," she mumbled, picking at the pocket of her dressing gown. "Dancing is just really important to me."
"And having a tantrum was likely to change John's medical opinion of your condition?"
"Well, no," she began tentatively.
"Precisely." Mycroft crooked his finger at her.
"Mycroft," Sherlock said warningly. "I don't think that's appropriate just now. You'll make her howl, which isn't anymore conducive to her breathing properly than screaming is. You can smack her later."
The eldest Holmes looked distinctly displeased at the fact that Sherlock was right.
"And in any case, supper is ready," John announced.
x
The second day of her imprisonment, as Rose liked to call it, went fairly well. Mycroft was over again, but she spent some time with Mrs. Hudson and brought back fresh scones for everyone, and let them think she'd only sat and chatted rather than get her hands dirty and bake alongside the beloved landlady.
The third day, however, was quickly becoming problematic. Mycroft was taking her mobile every time it chirped; he was also being harassed by the Prime Minister who was threatening to call their employer, which only served to make Mycroft more irritable than he generally was.
As four o'clock in the afternoon rolled around, Rose left him alone to answer yet another call, and made herself more coffee. That was the only nice thing about being home all day: coffee all day! That and Sherlock and John were spoiling her and that had its appeal as well. It was sweet how much they worried over her. If only Mycroft's worry manifested itself in sweetness, rather than suspicions and general crankiness.
"Rose, what number cup of coffee is that today?" Mycroft asked when she reappeared in the sitting room.
"Oh, you're done already? I figured you'd have to step out and shout again," she admitted.
"That's not an answer to my question."
"Uh… sixish?"
Mycroft frowned. "Are you asking or telling?"
Rose groaned and would have given anything just then to be with Sherlock at St. Barts, even if it meant doing icky things with people's innards. "Telling I suppose."
"That's really very unhealthy. You should be drinking water, much, much more water than coffee."
He received an eye roll for his troubles. "Yeah, because that's totally the same thing. You're an idiot and a helicopter parent, do you know that? A helicopter parent Mycroft. Think on that. In fact, go think on that at home, would you? Sometimes I love you so much more when you're not… you know… not here."
John sat back in his chair with his own cup of coffee watching the exchange between siblings as if it were some sort of special on the BBC about an unchartered terrain or new species that was discovered. They really made no sense to him sometimes. What it must have been like growing up in that house!
And while he knew he should stay out of it, it was like a train wreck. You knew you shouldn't look, but couldn't help doing it anyway. "Do you seriously love him more when he's not here?"
Rose's eyebrow quirked. "Well, obviously John. I'm not certain why that isn't obvious to you. He doesn't annoy me when he's away from me. Therefore I love him more because he's not annoying me."
Mycroft was frowning in concentration more than anything else. "What exactly is a "helicopter parent" Rose? You just make things like that up so I feel old and out of touch with the world, don't you?"
"No, that's an actual thing," Rose assured him. "Heard it round the studio. All the teens say it, when their parents are overbearing and annoying and won't leave them alone as if they're very life depends upon continued second-by-second involvement in their affairs."
"You need a "helicopter parent," which has to be one of the most idiotic expressions I've ever heard," Mycroft decided. "But you need one, if not a 24/7 minder."
She let out an exaggerated groan. "Mycroft, please listen to me and listen to me very carefully. This is important. If you do not go back to work tomorrow, I'm going to become a terrorist and I mean that very sincerely."
He gave her a smug, superior look and said. "I'll let you."
"Yeah, your club that you like? First on the hit list," Rose informed him.
"What sort of terrorist?" John interjected.
"A terrifying terrorist, obviously," Rose snickered.
"They were monsters growing up, weren't they? She and Sherlock."
"You have no idea, I assure you," Mycroft said in all sincerity.
"I'm not a monster! Nor have I ever been! I was… delightful," she responded after settling on an adjective.
Mycroft made a noise suspiciously resembling a snort. "Until about age six."
"Mycroft, do shut it, will you?"
Another smug look crossed his face. "Do keep in mind, sister mine, I'm going to remember this. All of this, when it comes time to spank you."
Rose's jaw dropped. "That is completely inappropriate Mycroft. I'm on medication and I'm recovering. I'm very heavily medicated in fact."
"You're like this constantly Rose, without medical assistance."
Rose shook her head and turned to John. "Brothers are really an abomination on this earth, do you know that? You're so lucky you've just got Harry."
"And what are sisters then?" Mycroft inquired.
"Do you really need to ask, My? Clearly we are angelic creatures from heaven. That should be abundantly obvious. I'd be perfectly lovely if you weren't here."
"You know, in her defense, she typically is rather lovely," John felt compelled to point out. "You don't bring out her best side by any means."
"Aw! John, that's very sweet," Rose decided, giving him a grin. "See Mycroft? Why do you have to be a bear? You should be more like John; he's always sweet to me."
"Good, he can have you then."
"You're still here?" Sherlock asked, appearing in the doorway of the flat. "Mycroft, you have a home, why can't you just go there and stay there."
"It's like a special kind of hell Sherlock, it really is," Rose stated with a sigh.
"Try raising you, Rose. That is a special kind of hell," Mycroft replied.
"Lord, you were never any fun Mycroft. At all." She tossed a pillow at him.
"Must you throw things like a child?"
"It's a pillow; it won't hurt you, poor darling." Her voice dripped with sarcasm.
"I suppose that's better than a teapot or potted plant, if one must have something thrown at them," Mycroft admitted.
John waited for him to laugh; only Mycroft didn't laugh. "Oh my god, you're serious? She threw a potted plant at you?"
Sherlock started laughing. "I remember that! It was hilarious!"
Mycroft scowled. "It was anything but hilarious when I fell over and lost consciousness on the lawn."
"Admittedly not one of my brighter moments," Rose grumbled. "And I paid for it. But honestly, in the moment, it was totally worth it. Absolutely glorious, it really was John."
"She's right, it was," Sherlock nodded, having gained control of his laughter.
John stared at them both for a long moment before turning to Mycroft. "I never thought I'd feel sorry for you Mycroft, ever. Right now, I do."
At just that moment, Mycroft's mobile rang for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. Getting up, he helped himself to Sherlock's room for a bit of privacy. He emerged several minutes later.
"Something has come up and I actually do have to go to work now. My employer sends her best and hopes you heal well. She's sending round tea and biscuits," Mycroft told Rose.
As soon as he exited the building, Rose and Sherlock let out dual sighs of relief. "Never thought he'd leave. You're a horrible brother for abandoning me like that."
"I assumed you didn't want me to murder him. Was I wrong?"
"No, but still, you owe me. I'd like chocolate ice cream, and I mean immediately," Rose told him with a grin.
Sherlock kissed the top of her head before going out in search of ice cream.